More assistant librarian things
My little mind reading ,poetry speaking ,hallucinating feller
Ocassionally dresses as a jester as a coping mechanism. Makes the rhyming feel more intentional
But
Perhaps it can make others see the crazy patterns it does? Share the “gift” of hallucination. So when you finally find a rest from encounters strange and take a breath on the ground, in the corners of your eyes will stranger things be found. . And All around the spirals swirl in beat to music but you seem to hear. It comes from behind a door you see, a door thats just appeared . It seems to be the only object untouched by distorting pulsing patterns. And when its opened ,singing swells, and echoes, as in caverns. Even more so spirals spill and flood the floors and walls and ceiling, it enters eager in your eyes, your maddening mind but the beginning.
For winding ways with signs that stray and corridors of countless corners, stretch and sway along the way where wandering takes you days or hours. Rhythmic ripples rise along the frightful flickering fractals flowing. all alone and always wrong , a song that strips your sense of knowing. where are you going? from neon lights and noisy loud, a coming non-existent crowd, never arriving, is it hiding? the creature who your soul has bound? to this timeless trancing swaying, the lack of living life decaying, finest fabric of sanity fraying, what are you saying? then where will one wander if one cant wonder who and what you might even be? to what owe the pleasure finding some treasure if trapped in the turmoil of not being free? entertain or enlighten but you are so frightened to even remember that you cannot see. that there is no ending, the place that your spending the very last ounces of your sanity. forget being free.
enjoy instead elapsing shreds of lucidness, insanity. watch the structures change and shift and swirl and rift in vanity. sway to songs of senseless meaning, forget and fly from ever leaving. ever sleeping. ever dreaming. never sever lines of knowing where your going when to stop, for the floor it falls from neath your feet you feel you stomach drop. buT YoUre OK! for you wont ever really Die! you Could try! but Then Why, even come here in first place? For the Game? For a Taste? thats a shame. what a waste. well it matters little now. for then how, well did you think, do we eat and do we drink? worry not at all about it, How if We get Started? so back in the boxes of blinding bright hues, of purples and pinks and prickely blues. of beating and booming of brimmingly bases, of glass frames that glimmers those strangely shaped faces. yours catching. and no matter how lonely you thought you were. there is someone else who has Always been there. watching.
but now
if You then Too yearn For its Lore
why Dont you Open Up my Door? :)
